


a surprise gift

by elmshore



Series: home is your heartbeat [1]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25082629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmshore/pseuds/elmshore
Summary: It’s Abby’s birthday and despite telling Esme not to worry about getting a gift, Esme has a little surprise in store for her.
Relationships: Abby Anderson/Original Female Character, Abby/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Abby Anderson
Series: home is your heartbeat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871479
Comments: 21
Kudos: 58





	a surprise gift

Esme runs a finger along the fabric — lace and silk and finer than anything she’s ever owned — and feels goosebumps rise on her skin. She is warm, flush creeping across her body, and she cocks her head, examining herself in the mirror. 

Her reflection is barely recognizable.

The outfit leaves little to the imagination, that’s for sure. Pale skin peeks out from the lace and she lifts her hands, tries to adjust the bra she thinks might be a size too small, then huffs and leaves it. Hopes she won’t be wearing it long enough to really matter. Drops her hands, lets them rest against her stomach, and takes it all in.

Both the bra and panties are made out of a pretty white lace, the color reminding her of freshly fallen snow, and though it provides little in the way of coverage, she likes the way it feels. A sheer, silken fabric — in the same lovely white hue — is attached to the bottom of the bra and hangs down over her stomach, stopping a few inches past the top of her thighs. A slit runs up the piece, which she assumes is to part it open. She wonders what it might be for, maybe for decoration?

Or enjoyment, since it does feel awfully nice under her fingers.

She takes a step back to get a better view of herself, raises up on her tiptoes, and turns in a circle. Drops down and then reaches up, gently prying loose the ribbon holding her hair up, shaking it out, combing a hand through the brown locks. Tries to make it look messy but, like, in a sexy way, before giving up and just letting it do as it pleases.

Maybe a bit of make-up? No, it’ll just get ruined.

A soft knock at the door makes her jump and she stumbles, hand lurching out to grab the sink to keep from falling over. “Yeah?” She calls, hoping her voice doesn’t give away too much of her embarrassment.

“Everything okay?” Abby asks, muffled through the wood of the door, and Esme can hear her lean against the frame. “You’ve been in there a while, getting the gift I specifically asked you not to get for me.”

Rolling her eyes, Esme shakes her head and pushes away from the sink, taking a step toward the door. “Don’t rush me,” she says, then bites her lip, hands twitching at her sides. “Now, go sit on the bed, and close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

“Fine, fine,” Abby sighs and moves away. Esme can hear her making the short trek back to the bed, footsteps heavy, and when she presses an ear to the door, hears the bedsprings creak as Abby takes a seat. 

“Okay, I’m on the bed.”

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes, they’re closed.”

She breathes in, then out, and slowly cracks open the door. Peers through the small opening to see that yes, Abby really is on the bed with her eyes closed, and then pushes it open wider. Steps out and closes the door behind her, leaning back against it, hands clasping together, palms sweating.

Of course the nerves would kick in now.

In an effort to ignore the flutters of anxiety, Esme focuses on Abby. The other woman has already changed into her sleepwear, a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue tank top — a particular favorite of Esme’s, since it leaves those impressive arms on display — and her blonde hair is loose, hanging messily to her shoulders. It’s a comfortable sight, one that she takes a moment to enjoy.

“Can I open them now?”

“No, not before you make me a promise,” Esme says, pushes away from the door and moves a few tentative steps toward the bed. 

“What sort of promise?” Abby’s brow arches in confusion, but Esme can see the corner of her mouth twitch in an effort not to smile.

“That you won’t laugh.” It’s ridiculous, she knows, but she doesn’t think she could handle that sort of reaction. Knows it’s foolish to assume that Abby would laugh at any of this but, still, better safe than sorry.

“Why would I laugh?”

“Just promise, please?”

“Okay, fine, I promise.” Abby lifts a hand and makes a little cross over her heart, smiling now. “Cross my heart and all that.”

Satisfied, Esme swallows, wets her lips, and then, “Alright, you can open your eyes now.”

When Abby does, Esme isn’t sure if  _ she _ wants to laugh or melt at the look on the other’s face. Brown eyes travel down her figure, slow and precise, taking in every detail, and she’s never felt this exposed before — which is dumb, she’s not even naked, but there it is — and she is overcome with the need to move, to do something,  _ anything _ , that isn’t just standing still.

So, she turns, gives a little spin, and puts on the brightest smile she can muster. “Well? What do you think?”

Abby opens her mouth, snaps it closed, and then opens it again. Her fingers dig into the edge of the bed, gripping it like a vice, and Esme can’t help but imagine those same fingers in her hair, on her body. A wave of heat spreads through her. Settles in her chest and then moves down, into her stomach, and further still, gathering between her legs.

“Where did you get that?” Abby seems to push the words out, tone sharp, and while it’s not what Esme wants to hear, it is a fair question, all things considered.

She toys with one of the bra straps idly, aware of the way Abby’s eyes watch her. “Remember that yellow house we searched on the supply run last week? The one with the weird stairs?”

“I remember, yeah.”

“Found it in there, with some other clothes. Thought it was nice so I brought it back and cleaned it up,” she says and runs a hand over the sheer fabric, biting her lip. “So, do you like it?” 

Silence is her only answer and briefly, she worries that perhaps she’s gone too far. They’ve been together for a full year now, but she’s always been careful never to push Abby or let herself be too bold in her advances, wanting to let the other woman dictate the speed of their relationship. 

Maybe this was too much? Because yeah, sure, Abby might have thoroughly fucked her within earshot of the scavenging group a few weeks ago, but that had been Abby’s call — one she had been  _ very _ happy to accept — and she wonders if this is crossing some sort of boundary, a line she couldn’t see but that still mattered.

But then Abby leans forward, looking very much like a wolf, and all but growls, “Come here and I’ll show you.”

Doubts melting away, Esme giggles and closes the distance between them. When she reaches the bed, Abby’s legs part and she slots herself between them. Puts her hands on the woman’s arms and slides them up, over those wonderful biceps, and then to her shoulders. 

Fingers settle on her hips and the touch is like a jolt of electricity, making her shiver. Abby trails her hands up, over her stomach and under the sheer covering, touch light and gentle. She thinks about saying something witty or flirty, but then those hands are on her breasts, thumbs rubbing over her nipples through the lace, and her throat goes dry, lips parting with a moan.

Abby chuckles and drags her hands back down, calloused fingers ghosting along her skin, sending a throb of want straight to her core. “Abby,” she pants, pleads, and tiptoes closer, tightening her hold on those solid shoulders.

Another chuckle and, “Shh. It’s my birthday, remember? Don’t rush me.” The tone is dripping with smug satisfaction, the words an echo of her own earlier ones, and if she weren’t already so damn desperate she would say something flippant in return. 

Unfortunately, she  _ is _ that damn desperate, and so all she can do is whimper.

Hands curl around the back of her thighs, nails pricking against the tender flesh, and Esme moans, filled with a sudden need that has her aching. Watches as Abby leans forward, forehead bumping against her sternum, and when she feels those lips press into her skin, the sound she makes is downright pathetic.

“You’re so impatient,” Abby teases, looking up at Esme through her lashes, smirking.

“I’m not, you’re just mean and like to tease me,” she argues, but her tone lacks any sort of bite.

Knuckles drags over her center, the fabric of the panties soaked by this point, and she gasps sharply, her body suddenly aflame. “Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” is all she can manage to choke out, hips rolling forward, desperate for more.

“Sure about that? Because you seem to like my teasing,” Abby says, repeating the action once, twice, and then lets her hand drop away, laughing at the whine this earns her. Plants her hands on Esme’s waist and moves her back a few steps, pushing herself up and to her feet. “I can always stop, if you prefer?”

“Now you are being mean,” Esme pouts, glaring up at the taller woman, and presses herself closer. Snakes an arm around Abby’s neck and leans forward, places a kiss against the other’s throat, and feels Abby shiver, the hands at her waist tightening their grip.

Then they’re turning and she’s being pushed backwards, landing on the bed with a somewhat undignified squeak, blinking up at the woman now looming over her. Abby reaches for her, hands curling around her knees, and opens her legs, exposing her heat to the cool air of the cabin. It leaves her dizzy and breathless, goosebumps returning.

“Scoot up,” Abby orders and she is quick to comply, hands scrabbling to get a hold atop the blankets, planting her feet on the edge of the bed. 

Those strong hands leave her knees, travel down her legs, and press against her inner thighs, each finger sending little shock waves crashing through her. Abby doesn’t touch her where she wants, however, and just soaks her in, a dark hunger present in those brown eyes. She’s had people look at her with lust before, but never like this — and she’s definitely never wanted it like she does this, right now.

Abby keeps her hands in place, so close yet so far, rough thumbs tracing circles into the damp skin, and she writhes, twists the blanket in her hands, body hot and tingling. “Please,” she says, unable to take it any longer, about to go mad.

“Please what?” Abby’s voice is low and rough and Esme bites down on her lip hard, vibrating with need. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.” It’s a command and Esme groans, the desire to obey flooding her senses.

“Touch me,” she begs, head feeling foggy and light, eyes locking with Abby’s. “Please, just touch me.”

The panties are pulled off, up and then down her legs, tossed onto the floor somewhere, to be dealt with later. Abby lowers herself onto her knees and takes Esme’s legs down with her, placing them over her shoulders. Turns her head and presses a kiss against both of her thighs, each one eliciting a heady moan. 

She’s just about to beg again when a finger dips into her folds, followed by another, and she croons, head falling back.

“You’re so wet,” Abby chuckles and then swirls a thumb over her clit, firm and precise.

It sends Esme up, spine curving and body tense, gasping out a moan that is more a wail than anything else. A hand slides up to rest atop her stomach and presses her back into the bed, holding her in place, keeping her still. Those fingers slide into her, curve upwards, and the sound leaves her again, filling the cabin. “Fuck, Abby — ”

Whatever else she might have said turns to ashes the second she feels that mouth at her center, tongue parting her folds, and she gasps, loud and cracking. Reaches down, fingers curling into Abby’s hair, hips bucking up as she tries to pull the woman even closer. She feels rather than hears Abby hum against her, the sound rumbling through her and stoking the fire burning within her.

Ever the tease, Abby keeps her pace slow, drawing out the pleasure and sending Esme into a frenzy. She can’t keep still, writhing, heels digging into Abby’s back and her hips rolling up with each careful lick. “Fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” she pants, oh so eloquently, and feels the woman’s other hand slide from her stomach to her hip, gripping it hard enough to bruise.

That familiar sensation begins to coil in her belly and she groans, nails scraping against Abby’s scalp. Feels the other woman pick up the pace, tongue and fingers working together mercilessly. Sweat beads on her skin and trickles down, between her breasts, gathers on the back of her neck. She turns her head, buries her face in the blanket, and tugs Abby closer, wanting more, more,  _ more _ .

She’s close now, right at the edge, and then the mouth is gone, fingers slowing down, and she cries out in protest, body rolling upwards, head snapping back around to look down at Abby.

“Abby, please,” she pleads, trying to pull her back in, but the woman is like a rock that won’t budge. “Please,  _ please _ ,” she whines, close to tears, body aching.

“I love seeing you like this,” Abby murmurs, lips against her thighs, so tantalizing close to where Esme wants them to be. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want to come,” she says, voice shaky, and tugs again, fingers vice-like in Abby’s hair. “I want to come for you, please.”

This time, when that mouth returns, it closes around her clit and Esme actually screams, spots dancing behind her eyes as she squeezes them shut. The fingers resume their pace, in and out, fucking her relentlessly, leaving her no time to catch her breath. Abby slips a third finger into her and she can feel that white haze dancing along the edges of her mind.

Then those glorious fingers crook up, tongue rolling over her clit, and Esme falls apart. Her vision blurs, going white, and she arcs up, body going bowstring taut, every nerve set alight. Abby continues to fuck her through the orgasm and she sobs, a broken sound, hands clutching the woman’s hair like it’s a lifeline, like she’ll drown if she lets go. 

She comes down slowly, chest heaving and breath ragged, her whole body feeling languid, like she’s floating. Untangles her fingers from Abby’s hair and lets her arms fall atop her stomach, eyes slipping closed.

Abby pulls out of her gently and lifts herself, hands bracing against the mattress as she leans over her, knee resting in the space between Esme’s still open legs. 

Esme lets her eyes open and smiles, raising a hand to lazily trace the small scar on Abby’s cheek. “Hi,” she says, too lost in the afterglow to say anything else.

“Hi,” Abby whispers, returning the smile before she leans down, capturing Esme’s lips with her own.

Her lips part easily and she can taste herself on Abby’s tongue, eliciting another moan from her. She hooks an arm around the other’s neck and tugs herself up, the need to be closer seeping into every pore.

The kiss ends and she feels those lips trailing down her chin, over the sweat-slick skin of her neck, teeth nipping and then biting down — not hard enough to break skin, but definitely hard enough to leave marks — and she sighs into it, pleasure humming along her body.

Except, that damn bra is starting to dig into her sides and she huffs, pushing Abby away so she can sit up a little more. “Hold on,” she mutters and drawing on years of experience, deftly unclasps the hooks from behind, wiggling herself out of the item and throwing it off to the side. Falls back onto the bed and smiles. “There, much better.”

“I’ll say,” Abby says and before Esme can respond, leans down, swirling a tongue over one of the now exposed nipples. Grazes it with her teeth and Esme groans, loud and heavy, hands gripping those thick arms, liking the way those muscles flex under her touch.

A thumb and index finger close around the other nipple, featherlight at first, then tighter, rolling it between the pads of her fingers. Pinches in a way that draws out another high-pitched whine, Esme writhing under her.

“Oh,  _ oh _ , fuck, Abby,” she moans, back curving upward, a whole new wave of heat spreading through her. The inside of her legs are drenched by this point and she thinks, absently, that they’re going to have to change the duvet when this is over, but then Abby’s knee presses against her aching cunt and every rational thought goes flying out of her head.

She’s still so tender from the climax moments ago and each stroke sends tremors rocking through her. Arms wrap around Abby’s middle and she grasps at the woman’s back, fingers bunching into the fabric of her shirt, trembling, trying to find purchase. The lips at her breast move, tongue dragging up to her collarbone, sucking at the pulse point, and then higher, teasing the corner of her mouth.

Esme turns her head and the kiss is anything but gentle, teeth knocking together as their mouths war for dominance, tongues intertwined. It’s hungry, desperate,  _ devouring _ , and everything she could ever want. Her lungs burn for air but she refuses to admit defeat first and it is Abby who relents, pulling back, forehead bumping against Esme’s as she pants.

Smiling at her victory, Esme lets one of her hands slide down, fingers inching their way under Abby’s shirt and over that toned abdomen — Abs is a  _ very _ fitting nickname — and loves the way the other shivers at the touch, teeth biting into her lower lip. Feeling bold, she drags the hand down and past the hem of those sweatpants.

Her fingers find their mark easily enough and when she sinks two fingers inside that wet heat, the growl that leaves Abby’s mouth is so filthy and primal that it nearly sends her back over the edge. Brows drawn tight, Abby stares down at her, gaze sharp and predatory, pupils blown so wide her eyes are nearly black. 

Esme only smiles in return and curls the digits up, pushing them in deeper, and the moan this earns her is delicious.

“Ems,  _ fuck _ .” 

“It’s your birthday,” she says, mouth tracing wet kisses along Abby’s chin, down her throat, leaving her own marks — and making sure they’re high enough that she’ll have a hard time hiding them tomorrow. “I want to make you feel good, baby.”

She rolls her thumb over Abby’s clit and the woman curses, voice cracking, hips bucking into her touch. Takes a second to feel proud of herself and then slowly,  _ very _ slowly, pulls her fingers out. The way Abby’s hips roll toward her, as if trying to follow, means it's her turn to chuckle. “Now who’s the impatient one?”

A glare is her only response and she laughs, pushing Abby back, sitting up. “Position change,” she declares and Abby frowns, remaining still, so she rolls her eyes and wiggles out from under her, pointing toward the pillows. “Lie down, don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Or what?” Abby challenges, but she moves to do as told, lounging back against the headboard, legs spreading so Esme can settle herself between them.

“Or else.”

“Ooh, I’m scared now.”

“You should be.”

Esme rests on her haunches and allows herself a chance to take in the sight of Abby once more. She’s gorgeous, no matter how she might argue when Esme tries to tell her this. She’s heard the way a few others describe her —  _ built like an ox _ — and honestly, it’s not far from the truth. Toned muscle and broad shoulders, every inch of her a weapon, a soldier through and through.

But she’s willing to bet that none of them know just how sweet her lips taste or how soft her hair is or the way she gets clingy when she’s sleepy. No, those nuggets of information are all her own, little treasures she keeps locked away deep in her heart, tucked safely away, where they can never be stolen.

“Ems?”

The sound of Abby’s voice brings her back to reality and she swallows, then gives the woman a wicked little grin.

“One of us is wearing too many clothes,” she sings and leans forward, aware of the way Abby’s eyes flick down to her breasts, pupils dilating again. “And I don’t think that’s very fair,” she adds and reaches out, hooking a finger under the hem of Abby’s shirt, tugging it up slowly, exposing those infamous abs. 

Hands move to help her and the shirt is pulled off in one swift motion, Abby throwing it to the floor to join the other pieces of clothing. Esme clicks her tongue and then leans down. Drags her tongue over one of Abby’s breasts, lips closing around the nipple as she rolls it between her teeth, pressing her tongue flat against it.

Abby reaches for her, grabs her waist hard, and pulls her closer, a deep groan rolling through her. Taking the sound as a sign to keep going, Esme lets the breast slip out of her mouth an audible  _ pop _ and moves down, tongue trailing a pathway along her skin. The hands at her waist fall, fingers digging into her hips, and she shifts even closer, palms resting atop Abby’s legs. 

She looks up then and feels her heart stutter in her chest. There is lust in those brown eyes, yes, but something else — something soft and raw and open — and she feels a bubble of emotion rise up just under her heart, leaving her breathless. Esme shoots up, lips crashing against Abby’s, and feels strong arms encircle her waist. Holds her close, protected, safe.  _ Loved _ .

Esme breaks the kiss, teeth nipping Abby’s bottom lip, and then tilts her head, tongue rolling across the shell of an ear before she says, “I want to make you come.”

The sound that leaves Abby is better than any song she’s ever heard.

She reaches down, fingers gripping the hem of the sweatpants, and begins pulling them down. 

“Lift your hips.”

“You’re so bossy all of a sudden,” Abby laughs, but lifts her hips all the same, and when Esme flicks her eyes back up, she can see the flush overtaking her, staining those cheeks a lovely shade of red. The pants come off with a little less grace than the shirt, but they are off and out of the way and finally, they’re both on equal footing.

Scars litter Abby’s form and Esme lets her fingers trace a few, gently, reverently. She knows the stories behind a few of them — like the one three inches above her left knee, where a Seraphite caught her by surprise — but there are plenty that remain a mystery. It’s something she doesn’t push, lets Abby decide when, or if, she’ll tell her.

And it’s fine. She doesn’t need her past, only her present, and maybe her future, if she’s lucky enough.

“You’re amazing,” she breathes, hands curling around Abby’s knees and trailing up, nails grazing pale pathways in the skin. She rocks back, shifts into a better position, and leans down. Follows her hands with her mouth, lips ghosting over the flesh. Abby is shaking now and she’s not surprised by the wetness coating the other’s inner thighs.

“Glad to see I wasn’t the only one enjoying themselves,” she teases and then runs a tongue over the slick skin, really liking the sharp hiss Abby makes. The taste of her — tart and just a little salty — sends a twang of need strumming through her.

“ _ Esme _ .”

Oh, the full name this time.

She smiles despite herself and glances up, finds Abby watching her, lips wet and parted and looking entirely too kissable. 

But no, she’s got other plans. Gives the woman a wink and says, “Don’t worry. Unlike you, I’m nice...and impatient.”

Before Abby can respond, she lowers her head and slides her tongue into the other’s cunt, following it with two fingers. Above her, Abby lets out the most wonderfully broken moans, and those strong hands weave through her hair, locking her head in place. Which is perfectly fine, she’s got no plans to stop now.

She fucks Abby, building her rhythm quickly, drowning in the taste and smell of her, head swimming, every sense overwhelmed by her. Thanks to just how wet Abby is, she is easily able to work her fingers in deeper, sheathing them up to the knuckle and when she lets them curl once, then twice, then three times, she hears Abby cry out, whispering her name like a litany.

Esme rolls her tongue over Abby’s clit, closes her lips around it, and sucks, sinking a third finger into her. Abby is clutching her hair like it’s the only thing keeping her from crumbling and while there is a sting of pain, she ignores it — relishes it — and continues, unceasing in her goal. She knows the other woman is close, can hear it in the shallowness of her breath and feel it in the way her body shakes, hips rising with each crook of a finger or swirl of her tongue.

She pulls back for only a moment to say, “Come for me, baby, you’re so close,” before dipping her mouth back down, fingers picking up the pace.

All it takes is one more curve of her fingers and Abby breaks with a keening wail, body rigid and hips lifting off the bed, heels digging into the mattress. Esme keeps fucking her, rides her through the climax, and when Abby relaxes, body going limp, panting, she pulls back.

Lets her fingers slip out and, making sure Abby is watching, lifts them, taking them into her mouth. Licks them clean, one by one.

“You — ” 

“Who, me?” Esme asks, pointing to herself with feigned innocence.

Abby rolls her eyes, but the lazy smile now spreading across her face ruins the effect. “Come here,” she says, arms open, and Esme is happy to oblige, scooting closer.

She curls into Abby’s side, strong arms locking around her waist, and feels fingers making little trails up and down her back, tracing the slopes and dimples there. Rests her own hands atop Abby’s stomach and twists slightly to look up at the woman, blue meeting brown.

“Happy birthday,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss against her lips, then tucks her head into the crook of Abby’s neck, breathing in the scent of her. “Pretty sure I won the best gift award this year.”

“I don’t know,” Abby murmurs, a hand curling into her hip, thumb rubbing circles into the skin. “That coin Lev found for me is pretty awesome.”

“Hey!”

Abby laughs and drops a kiss atop her head. “But your gift was pretty spectacular.”

“You’re damn right it was.”

Another laugh fills the cabin and Esme smiles, eyes fluttering closed.

Yeah, she for sure won the best gift award.

**Author's Note:**

> I...really don't know why I'm even posting this lol. Listen, I know the fandom pretty much universally hates Abby, but I really ended up loving her character and when that happens there's a 95% chance that I'm gonna make an oc for them so, here we are. Apologies for any errors, I likely missed a ton of them.
> 
> Also, I haven't written smut in years so uh, I'm so sorry for this poor attempt. I'm mostly posting this because I made a resolution to start using this damn account so uh, guess this is my first post. Yay.


End file.
